


Artistic Desire

by iggycakes



Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggycakes/pseuds/iggycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From motorkink. The Duke finds out about Dutch's exquisite art skills and decides he needs him in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artistic Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This was, believe it or not, my first Motorcity fanfic.

It wasn’t something he did often at all, but sometimes even the Duke of Detroit needed some R&R. His concept of R&R meant striding down his yard while singing old Rock songs at obnoxious volumes. And, by yard, he really meant anywhere in Motorcity. So, he got one of his henchwomen to drive him out a few miles, got off and took a walk. It wasn’t by sitting around on his ass that he found all those beautiful cars hanging out by his mansion, you know.  
  
The Duke marched on, sliding on occasion while pretending to hit a really good riff on his air guitar. He only barely sung lyrics, preferring to grunt out notes instead. “—Close my eyes! I don’t wanna fall as—!”  
  
He spun on one foot, strumming his invisible guitar when he heard something clinking nearby. It was the sound of sparks flying, metal hitting together and the strong smell of spray paint. The Duke straightened, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he sniffed out the direction from where the sweet noise was coming from. And then he followed it.  
  
The commotion was coming from a large, abandoned looking structure in the middle of pretty much nowhere. But there were dozens upon dozens of metal plates leaning by the walls, sitting on the ground— each of them filled with bright neon colours and crazy shapes that instantly caught the Duke’s attention. He gawked momentarily before running up to a pile of plates to examine them closely. He’d even pulled his glasses off, letting them hang on his head over his flawless blond-brown hair.  
  
These canvases were superb, absolutely beautiful. He just had to find out who was responsible for there and make them his.   
  
The Duke laid the plate back down gently, like a fragile treasure, and tiptoed over to the big open entrance of the building. The first he saw was a little green bot floating around— and the second was the familiar figure of a Burner he didn’t particularly give much attention.  
  
What was his name even again? Something that started with a “D”, he recalled.   
  
The Duke mulled over the thought for exactly two split seconds before he realized that this Burner must be the one behind all those beautiful canvases outside. Heck, even the inside of the building was decorate in the most intelligently selected colours, lines and shape. It was bright, but not obnoxious— telling, yet not pushy— delicate, yet bold. The Duke never felt so inspired in his life.   
  
But then the Burner, whose name he couldn’t place just yet, turned around and gaped at him. At once, the Duke fumbled to put his glasses back on. He cleared his throat, as if to reset the situation, and then sped over closer to where the Burner stood.   
  
“Uh, excuse me?”   
  
Then, the name finally hit him. Like rogue thunder in the desert, wow! “Dutch, baby!” The Duke exclaimed proudly, gesturing widely at him with finger guns.  
  
Dutch merely stared at him. But such a meek reaction didn’t faze the likes of the Duke of Detroit. The tall, red-clad man wrapped his arm over Dutch’s shoulder, leaning over closely to his face and practically whispered. “I’ve been looking for a man like you.”  
  
The Burner just looked as confused as ever. Cautious and refusing to be caught off-guard, he pushed the Duke off him and stared at him with a demanding expression. “What are you even doing here, Duke? What do you want?”  
  
The Duke had a wide grin on his face as he slid back with his palms out, feigning innocence. “Relax, honey! I just very honestly want a man of your talent working for me!”  
  
Dutch didn’t buy it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Now, if you don’t mind, can you leave me alone?”   
  
Dutch turned his back on the Duke, putting his gas mask back on and pretending to look at his blank canvas in deep thought. The Duke frowned, his shoulder hanging low dejectedly. Well, it’s not like he expected the guy to accept his proposal on the first go. Besides, it was better if there was a challenge behind this whole ordeal. It’d make victory all the more sweet. So, the Duke straightened up, sweeping his shoulder cape, and whispered.  
  
“Oh, trust me, Dutch. You’ll be mine someday.”

-0-

“What’s wrong Dutch? You look beat, man.”  
  
Dutch laughed sarcastically in reply. He rolled his eyes, then sighed before hanging his head. “That’s because I am beat.”  
  
“You gon’ tell me why, or?” Mike gave him an inquiring look, nothing nosy, just the usual concerned Mike. He sat down next to his pal and talked in a low voice. “Something happen?”  
  
The other Burner hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell his leader anything, honestly. It wasn’t even that big of a deal at this point. Well, putting aside the identity of the person behind his grief, this whole ordeal wasn’t anything worth Mike’s worry. Yeah, definitely. “Nah, it’s no big deal…”  
  
“Doesn’t look like it’s no big deal,” Mike leaned back. “Does it… have anything to do with you coming home so early?”  
  
Dutch had planned on staying at the studio a couple more days and, up until that morning, he had every intention of sticking to that plan. He shrugged, turning towards Mike and holding his hands up. “Well, actually—“  
  
“Oh, what do you know!” Texas popped in, loud and careless as usual. He ran over to the counter, holding a bouquet of bright-coloured flowers to his chest. “You are back!”   
  
Dutch glanced at Mike for a split second, but his leader merely shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I just got back. Why?”  
  
“Well,” Texas started. “There were these flowers sitting outside the gate with a card saying they were for you and, Texas thought, they must have mis-wrote my name or something because you weren’t back yet. Guess not, though, so here.”  
  
“Flowers?” Mike echoed.  
  
“Oh boy,” Dutch took hold of the bouquet, looking through it to find the card. It was certainly addressed to him. Clearly.  
  
“Yeah so, who are they from anyway?” Texas asked curiously.  
  
“Any ideas there, Dutch?”  
  
Dutch sighed and stood up, leaving the flowers behind. He waited until Mike and Texas were out of earshot before muttering under his breath. “Yeah, one.”  
  
And he didn’t particularly like it.  
  
The Burner made his way to the garage, deciding to work on making parts to distract himself from other troubles. Thankfully, neither Mike nor Texas followed after him. He guessed Mike told Texas not to ask any questions and let him be. In that case, Dutch would have to go thank him later. He appreciated the privacy. But then, maybe it would have been a good idea to open up.   
  
Alright, nope. Probably not. Definitely not.   
  
How was he supposed to tell the guys that the Duke of Detroit (THE Duke of Detroit) was making unwanted advances on him? Even he still had no remote clue what was going on. Before he knew it, Duke’s job proposals just got increasingly personal and (wow, no offense) incredibly sappy. Dutch wasn’t even sure what the Duke really wanted from him anymore.   
  
Three weeks ago, the day after the first time he appeared in his studio, the Duke paid him another visit. Difference was that, this time, he had his monster ride and henchwomen with him. Before even saying a single word, the henchwomen dumped a pile of parts in front of him. Even at a glance, Dutch knew that some of those parts were pretty difficult to come by. It wasn’t too hard to guess what would come next and, as expected, the words out of the Duke’s mouth were: “Work for me, and you get all the rare parts you could possibly want.”  
  
And then Dutch had to respectfully decline.  
  
Every day, since that day, without fail, the Duke would appear at his doorstep with some sort of modification to his proposal and, every day, since that day, without fail, Dutch would give him a flat-out ‘no’.  
  
Two weeks went by like that and, eventually, it seemed like the Duke’s enthusiasm was replaced by his equally obnoxious temper.   
  
“I have been a very, VERY patient man, Dutch.” He said, fuming beneath a smile. “I tried giving you gifts and anything else a person could possibly want down here in Motorcity and, what do you give me? Refusal, after refusal, after refusal! I’m starting to run out of cards here. I think I might just have to hurt your little Burner friends, at this rate.”  
  
And even though Dutch’s better judgment was against snapping back at the Duke for threatening his friends, he ended up doing it anyway.   
  
“Look, Duke.” He answered. “I have endured your every proposal with the respect I believe you deserve, but if you’re going to start threatening my bros, I’m afraid we’re going to have a problem.”  
  
Dutch had expected divine retribution after speaking back at the Duke, but the blond-brunet had merely gawked at him for a few awkward seconds. He’d push his sunglasses down to even look at him directly for a moment, as if entranced by his expression. Then, after his contemplation, the Duke grinned and slid on over to wrap his arm around Dutch. “You’ve got fire, hun. I like that.”  
  
Dutch decided that’s when everything stopped making sense.  
  
The sound of ROTH’s familiar beeping snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up at his green little buddy and ground. “No Roth, I ain’t thinking about him!”  
  
The bot made a gesture similar to rolling its eyes (if it had eyes, which it didn’t so it actually just did a flip).  
  
“Seriously, he’s just loud and obnoxious. He doesn’t even know the meaning of personal space! He thinks he can do whatever he wants!” Dutch ranted, walking over to the metal shelves to pick up a wrench. “I mean, sure, his figure is something to respect but—“  
  
ROTH beeped at him again.  
  
“I meant, like his status! Not his body!” He threw his hands up. “Don’t misunderstand me!”  
  
Dutch then made his way to Whiptail, popping open her hood and taking a quick glance inside. ROTH floated over next to him. Dutch looked at the bot. “Stop bothering me about him!”  
  
ROTH made another noise and floated away to get some parts. Dutch forced himself to concentrate on Whiptail. They had built her good as new after she was destroyed, but still, there so many modifications he wanted to make. He had so many new ideas, he just needed the parts to make it all come true. Of course, he had to start with the parts they already had unless…  
  
“Oh no, Dutch, you ain’t thinking about going to HIM for help.”  
  
“Going to who for help?”  
  
Dutch nearly knocked his head under the hood in shock. “Mike! Ever heard of knocking!?”  
  
Mike grinned. “No door.”  
  
“Oh right,”  
  
Dutch stepped away from Whiptail and straightened up. He scratched the back of his head, sheepishly, mostly grateful that Mike had decided to appear now instead of earlier.   
  
“Sorry, did you still want to be alone?”  
  
“Nah, it’s cool man.” Dutch smiled.   
  
“So…” Mike cleared his throat. “No intention on telling us who your secret admirer is?”  
  
“Nuh-uh. No way.” He sighed again. “Not if I can help it, man.”  
  
“Well,” Mike gave Dutch’s shoulder a pat. “If you need us, we’re here.”  
And Dutch smiled.  
  
Yeah, he definitely wasn’t telling anyone about the Duke’s crazy school girl crush on him.

-0-

“I sent him flowers, Rayon!” The Duke of Detroit whined. He sat on his throne sideways, his long limbs hanging off the armrests, a golden-plated telephone resting between his shoulder and ear.   
  
“Why are you even calling me, Duke?”  
  
“You’re the only one I can talk to about this. Come on, baby, I need help here.”  
  
“Fine,” Rayon sighed. “Did you at least apologize to him? That might be a start.”  
  
The Duke sat up and took hold of the receiver. “Apologize? That was the point of the flowers!”  
  
“So, you left a note in the flowers saying you were sorry?”  
  
“No, I didn’t.”  
  
“Then, you didn’t apologize.”  
  
“And I should?”  
  
“Yes, Duke. You should.”  
  
The Duke fumed for a moment, angrily wondering why on Earth he had to apologize in the first place. If anything, Dutch should be grateful he’s paying this much attention to him. If it were anyone else, they would have already succumbed. Why not him, though? It was all so incredibly annoying, annoying, annoying.   
  
He took a deep breath. Alright, no. Rayon was right. He should apologize. That was respectful thing to do and he was all about respect.  
  
“Fine, I will.”  
  
“Should I even ask what you did?”  
  
The Duke didn’t even deign to answer that question and merely hung up there and then. He was more preoccupied with how he was supposed to go apologize to Dutch in the first. Of course, he could just waltz into the Burners’ garage without a care in the world and demand Dutch’s attention. But that just might make him angrier and even more cautious around him. He didn’t want that.   
  
Was this morning even that bad of an idea? He only did what he had felt like doing at the time. He just very honestly wanted to kiss him. So, he did. Just like that.  
  
He got punched thereafter, sure, but that kiss also confirmed what he’d been feeling for a while now.   
  
“Sir, there are two Burners waiting outside. Should I let them in?” No. 2’s voice echoed down that wide hallway.   
  
“Burners?” Duke stood up excitedly. Maybe Dutch had finally come around, then. “Yes, let ‘em in right now. This instant!”  
  
The blond-brunet adjusted himself, flipping his hair back and pushing his glasses back up as he made his way down the stairs leading up to his throne. Two figures were coming up to meet him and only then did No. 2’s words register with him. She’d said two Burners. Two. Not one. Two. It looked like to him like Dutch brought Chilton with him. Alright, that was fine. It’s not like Mike’s presence was going to hinder him in any way. The Duke did what he wanted.   
  
“Well, if it isn’t Dutch!” Duke said with a bright smile, his arms wide open and welcoming, though Dutch merely glanced away in reaction. “And Chilton, you too.”  
  
Mike raised a confused brown. “Uh, ok.”  
  
The Duke held a hand out and a henchwoman appeared out of nowhere with a freshly trimmed rose. The blond-brunet took it, then quietly gestured the woman away and slithered over to Dutch’s side. He bowed deeply, taking a whiff of the flower before presenting it to the Burner. “For you, cheri.”  
  
Dutch didn’t want to accept it, but the Duke’s low gaze eventually beckoned him over. He reluctantly took the rose and slid over to a more acceptable distance away. No one spoke for a moment. Dutch too busy shrugging awkwardly and the Duke preoccupied with grinning like a fool. Mike looked at both of them unable to understand how it had come down to this. He cleared his throat. “Dutch, we came here for a reason, remember?”  
  
“Oh right.”  
  
“I’m all ears, Dutch baby.”   
  
Dutch spoke through clenched teeth. “I need a part.”  
  
The Duke’s grin grew only wider. “I knew you would say that.” He leaned back. “So, why’d you bring Chilton along? Afraid of being with me alone?”  
  
“I ain’t afraid!”  
  
“Whoa, down, you two! What is even going on here?” Mike examined both their expressions.   
  
The Duke laughed. “Not telling if he won’t. So, what part is it, hm?”  
  
“The A-Model Sonic Turbo Booster, DB45.” Dutch replied, glancing at the Duke from the corner of his eye.   
  
“Ah yes,” The Duke looked back at Dutch from over his glasses. “And what exactly do you plan on giving me in return? I mean, you don’t really think I’m just going to hand you over a rare part because I like you, right?”  
  
“No, I didn’t think that.”  
  
Mike gaped. “Because he… Wait, what?”  
  
“Oh, sorry, mon amour.” Duke smirked. “It slipped.”

-0-

Dutch retreated to the only place he could retreat to— his studio.

He had to be alone with his thoughts, his art. He had to take his mind off things. Let his feelings clear up. Yeah, clear up. Then, he could back to the garage and be (at least) substantially less disturbed by the Duke’s advances. He didn’t get it though. Why him? It’s not like the Duke ever paid him any attention before. Then again, considering the Duke’s wayward personality, maybe it shouldn’t surprise him at all. Alright then, in that case, what did he think about all of this?   
  
What did he think about—  
  
“Well my, I am flattered!” The Duke’s voice swooped in with a resounding blast. “It almost looks as good as the real thing.”  
  
“Duke!” Dutch pulled off his gas mask, looking up at the Duke who had slid right up to him, before glancing back at his canvas. “When did I…?”  
It was the Duke’s bust, painted in flashy blues and yellows.   
  
“Drawing me unconsciously, are you? Oh, cheri, why don’t you admit you’ve fallen for me too?” The Duke tipped Dutch over into his arms. “Et alors, qu’est-ce que tu penses de moi, au fait?”  
  
Dutch tried to keep hold of what coolness he had left. “Your accent is terrible.”  
  
“But it doesn’t make me any less fluent, Dutch baby.”  
  
“You’re fluent in French?”  
  
“Mais oui,”  
  
Dutch rolled his eyes, totally unconvinced. The Duke dipped him almost to the floor, leaning his face closer to his. His pleased grin was practically plastered on his face. Dutch felt like he’d lose if he looked away from that gaze, so he just stared back. If anything, he wasn’t going to doubt the Duke’s sincerity. Maybe giving in wouldn’t be so bad.   
  
Dutch closed his eyes and The Duke swooped in, laying his lips against his roughly— wasting no time to stick his tongue through Dutch’s teeth and kissing him deeply. The Duke cupped the back of the Dutch’s head, stroking the back of his ear while the other hand traveled from his chin, down his neck, to his shoulder, down his chest and lower…  
  
The Duke pulled Dutch up and cornered him at the wall behind them. He pressed himself against him, bringing his hands down to his Dutch’s waist.   
Dutch wasn’t having that. He flicked the Duke’s glasses up to stop him. “That’s all you’re getting.”  
  
Duke frowned. “Wow, stingy. What if I gave you that part you want, hm?”  
“I don’t need so much that I’d sell myself to you for it.”   
  
Dutch crossed him arms and looked up at him defiantly. The Duke grinned again as he adjusted his glasses. “You’re not ‘selling yourself’, cheri. I thought we agreed you liked me back.”  
  
“Nuh-uh. I said nothing, man.”  
  
“Ah, but that bust of me over there disagrees.”  
  
And Duke leaned down again to kiss him. Dutch kissed him back, his own arms unraveling to reach up around the Duke’s neck. They parted for a moment, their lips still only barely a centimeter apart. And the Duke whispered. “See, I told you so.”  
  
“Shut up,”


End file.
